The Flames Consume From Within (5/5)
Master Post Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Sam could hardly contain himself, nervous energy causing him to bounce on the balls of his feet as he waited for someone to answer Dean’s door. He’d been psyching himself up for two days for what he was about to do. He’d seen Dean the day after talking with the guys at the bar, and he realized that the only time he felt even remotely complete was when Dean was there. He knew he couldn’t go on without that feeling.
This time, unlike his past visits, it was Dean’s father who opened the door. And he didn’t look happy to see Sam on the other side. “You again?” he sneered. “Can’t you stay away from Dean for more than 24 hours?”
Sam opened his mouth to reply, not quite sure what he was going to say, but Dean’s voice from within stopped him. “Who’s at the door, Dad?”
“It’s that boy again!” John called over his shoulder.
Mary appeared at the door to the living room, her face splitting into a bright smile when she saw Sam. She turned to her husband, eyes narrowed menacingly. “John Winchester, you step away from that door right now and let that boy into this apartment.”
John looked like he was about to respond, but Mary took a couple steps toward him and his mouth snapped audibly shut. “Fine,” he gritted out through clenched teeth and stepped away from the door to let Sam through.
Sam wasted no time in striding toward the living room, not too keen on being under John Winchester’s scrutiny any longer than he had to. When he got to Mary, he leaned down and accepted her hug. Not quite sure how it would be received, he whispered in her ear, “Give me a few minutes with him?”
Mary pulled back, scrutinizing him so keenly that Sam barely resisted squirming. “Okay,” she said, sly smile spreading across her face. “Okay.”
Sam smiled in thanks and walked into the living room, seeing Dean in his usual place on the couch. If it was possible, Sam’s smile grew bigger, his heart racing as all of his reservations just melted away. He knew that he was making the right choice.
“Hey,” he said, bouncing slightly again. Dean looked much better than he had the last time Sam had seen him; he was more rested. The circles under his eyes had almost entirely disappeared.
They could hear Dean’s parents talking out in the hall, a hushed argument that Mary was obviously winning. A few minutes later, Mary called out that they’d be back in about 15 minutes or so, that they were going to grab some food, then the front door slammed.
Sam wasted no time in rushing over to kiss Dean. It was shorter than he would have liked, but they needed to talk and getting distracted really wasn’t the best way to do that.
“Hey, Sammy,” Dean mumbled, running his thumb along Sam’s lower lip, eyeing Sam’s face like he was trying to remember it again. “You look happy.”
Sam nodded, kissing the pad of Dean’s thumb in a move so sweet it even surprised him. “I am,” he whispered, taking both of Dean’s hands in his own. “So, I’ve been thinking and -”
Sam was cut off when Dean grabbed his face and pulled him up for another kiss, nothing sweet about this one. Dean licked and bit his way into Sam’s mouth, pulling Sam’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugging. Sam wasn’t really sure what had brought on Dean’s possessiveness, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t going straight to his cock.
Reluctantly, he managed to pull away from Dean and sit cross-legged on the floor, keeping Dean’s hand firmly grasped in his own. “Dean,” he laughed, “that’s really not what I’m here for, dude. I need to talk to you.”
Dean slumped back against the pillows he was propped up against, pouting. “I promise, we can make out all you want later. We can do plenty more, too, but I’d rather not have this conversation with your parents - especially your father present, okay?”
Dean grumbled out an affirmative, and Sam pulled his hands up to his mouth to kiss each one of them, laughing again when Dean couldn’t stop his lips from quirking up in the beginnings of a grin. “You’re so corny, dude,” he said. “Remember the no chick-click moments?”
“Yeah, okay, jerk.”
“Bitch.”
Sam rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath to start his well-rehearsed speech again. “As I was saying before. I’ve been thinking, about what you said, about this whole Kansas thing and I -”
Sam was interrupted again, but by Dean’s parents this time. Apparently, 15 minutes had gone by faster than Sam thought. They heard the door slam, and Sam automatically pulled his hands away from Dean’s, turning to face the door to the hallway.
Mary appeared first, smiling at the both of them before moving on into the kitchen. When John came through the door, he stopped in his tracks, looking at them with an expression that Sam couldn’t read. He did notice the glint of anger in his eyes though; he’d seen that far too much throughout his 20 years.
“John? What’re you…” Mary reappeared in the archway that connected the living room to the connection, looking between John and the other two almost fearfully. “Is something wrong?”
John stood up to his full height, causing Sam to cower back even though he was 15 feet away. “I think these boys have something they need to tell us, Mary.”
“D-dad,” Dean stuttered. “It’s…I…”
Sam saw his chance then, the only opening he might have for the rest of the night, maybe forever if John got his way. He turned back toward Dean and grabbed Dean’s wrist, running his fingers along the scarring to soothe both himself and Dean, not caring what it might look like to Dean’s father. Maybe he was stepping on Dean’s toes, maybe he was effectively outing him to his father, but he was far more concerned with saying what he’d come there to say.
“Choose me,” he said quickly, before he lost his nerve. “Dean, please. I know that your parents might be able to take care of you better than I or anyone else could, but… Choose. Me. Stay with me. Pick me.”
He was holding his breath, waiting for Dean’s reaction, and he closed his eyes, not sure that he could stand to see the look on Dean’s face if he said no.
“Sammy,” Dean whispered. “Look at me.”
Sam looked up.
And then Dean smiled.
* * *
Dean could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, blood roaring past. But all he could see was Sam, standing across the room. It was the first time he’d seen him in two and a half weeks, and he had to admit that Andy’s assessment was right on the money: he looked terrible. He stood hunched over, like there was too much weight on his shoulders to stand up straight - even though Sam never did stand completely straight, trying to make himself seem smaller than he was, less intimidating. But now it looked like he just wanted to make himself disappear. Hell, even his hair looked depressed. He looked like someone had not only kicked his puppy, but then proceeded to run it over with a car.
Four times.
Dean ached to walk over there. He wanted to just throw his arms around Sam and apologize. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, grovel and plead until Sam took him back and forgave him for his stupidity.
But then Sam looked up and noticed him. His face completely shut down, void of any emotion. His eyes just bored holes into Dean, who could feel his heart leap into his throat.
“You okay, man?” Henricksen’s voice sounded right next to his ear, startling him.
Dean turned to look at his friend. “I don’t…No, Vic, I’m not okay,” he responded, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice, though he was sure that he was failing miserably.
Henricksen gave him a small smile, reaching out to squeeze Dean’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “You know I’m here if you need anything, right?”
Dean nodded, not even bothering to try and hide his pain. “Yeah, I know,” he said. He turned to look at Sam again, noticing with disappointment that Sam had turned away from him and was joking around with Roland, a wide grin on his face.
“I can’t do this,” he muttered, backing toward the door. “Tell Bobby…I don’t know. Tell Bobby anything, but I just…I can’t.”
He didn’t wait for Henricksen’s response, he just bolted, racing down the stairs. He only paused when he made it outside and doubled over, his breath catching in his throat, lungs burning from the effort of holding back his tears. Whatever dumbass reason he’d had for breaking up with Sam, he was wrong. Dean was certain, in that moment, that the pain would never go away.
A hand on his shoulder shocked air back into his lungs, and he spun around to find himself face to face with Sam.
“S-sam,” he ground out, trying harder to keep the tears at bay. He opened his mouth to say more, but he didn’t know what else to say. What do you say to someone whose heart you broke, shattering your own in the process?
“You all right?” Sam asked, concern evident in his wide, hazel eyes.
Dean nodded dumbly, backing out of Sam’s reach. “Fine, Sam,” he forced out, plastering a wide, fake smile on his face. “You know me. Always land on my feet.”
He ignored Sam’s calls of his name as he took off for his apartment, running until he rounded the corner and let his despair get the better of him.
* * *
Sam could feel the muscles in his cheeks practically aching from the force of his grin. Dean was going to stay. Dean wanted to stay, with him. All he’d had to was ask.
“Dean?” John’s gruff voice broke the moment.
Dean’s eyes widened almost comically as fear completely gripped Sam’s heart. John was an ex-marine who could probably rip Sam apart with his bare hands. He’d seen the strength that Dean had gained due to John’s rigorous “football” training growing up. There was no doubt in his mind that if it came to blows, Sam would be out like a light.
But then the expression on Dean’s face shifted into one of hardened resolution, and Sam’s heart soared.
“Dad,” Dean said, sitting up straighter.
Sam turned around to look at John and Mary, noticing the look of pride on Mary’s face. He couldn’t help but feel proud himself. Dean was finally standing up to the father that had put him down his entire life.
“You want to explain this to me?” John said, eyes narrowed menacingly.
“Yes, sir,” Dean said, with absolute sincerity. Sam probably would have been mocking that for all it was worth. “I’m gay, sir.”
John’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You want to run that by me again?”
“I said I’m gay, sir,” Dean repeated, slowly, as though he were talking to a small child.
John took a step forward, baring his teeth in what Sam figured was supposed to be a smile, unpleasant though it may be. “That’s not accepted in this family, Dean, and you know that.”
Dean laughed bitterly, and Sam reached up to link their fingers together in the only act of defiance he could think of.
”I’m not changing, sir,” Dean said, voice shaking slightly. “You can accept it or disown me, but I’m not going back to Kansas with you either way. I’m staying here, with Sam.”
“Is that so, soldier?” John growled.
“I’m not a soldier, Dad,” Dean spat. “I’m your son. It’s about damn time you see that.”
“You are not going to speak me like that.” John took another step forward, hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Do I need to remind you who’s in charge here?”
“John Winchester!” Mary yelled, stepping in front of John and pushing him back. “You are not going to do anything to Dean. I’ve watched you bully him all his life, being a drill sergeant instead of a father, and I won’t stand for it anymore.”
“Mary, you have no idea -”
“Don’t I?” she asked incredulously, getting right into John’s face. “Dean is 25 years old, plenty old enough to be making his own choices. And, you know what? I’ve been waiting for him to stand up to you for years. Dean is who he is. And he’s gay, so what? He loves someone who loves him, and that’s all we have the right to ask for. So, John Winchester, you get off your high horse and take a good look at your son. If you walk away from him now, I will never forgive you.”
Sam had to admire her for her fierce protection of her son; it was no wonder Dean loved her so much. Even Sam was a little afraid of her. And to give her even more credit, John look chastised. He’d taken a few steps back so that he was almost in the hallway. And Sam thought that he just looked tired, like he’d finally lost a decades-long war.
“Dean, I…” John couldn’t even look at either one of them. “I’m sorry.”
And it actually sounded sincere.
Dean just stared at his father, obviously struggling for something to say. In the end he just settled for a short nod.
Mary clapped her hands. “John, why don’t we head out to a hotel or something? Give Dean some time with Sam…Give you time to cool off. This can all wait until the morning.”
John glanced at Mary then moved back out into the hallway without a word. Mary waited for him to walk out the front door before turning back to Sam and Dean, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She immediately moved across the room and enveloped Dean in a hug.
“Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you,” she whispered.
Dean patted her back absently. “I know, Mama.”
When Mary finally let go of Dean, she hugged Sam. “Thank you,” she told him.
Sam wasn’t sure what he was being thanked for, but he nodded anyway, mumbling, “You’re welcome.” He was pretty sure it sounded more like a question than a statement.
As Mary followed her husband out of the apartment, she was calling over her shoulder the whole time, already talking about plans for Thanksgiving, which was weeks away.
When Sam figured they were safely alone, he slumped back against the couch in relief, letting his head thump back against Dean’s leg. “I thought, for sure, that your dad was going to kill me,” he told Dean, arching his neck to smile up at him.
Dean laughed, patting Sam on the head. “Well, I thought he was going to kill me, so I guess we both got lucky, huh?” he responded.
They settled into a comfortable silence, Sam drifting along the edges of sleep as Dean’s fingers sifted through his hair. It was nice, just being there with Dean. There was no drama, no wantneednow to deal with. It was just them. Sam and Dean. Dean and Sam.
“Sammy?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you mean it?”
Sam sat up and turned to face Dean, brow furrowed in confusion. He had obviously missed some part of the conversation. “Did I mean what?”
Dean looked down sheepishly, playing with a loose thread on his sweatpants. “That you want me to stay?” he mumbled shyly.
Sam cuffed Dean on the shoulder. “Of course I want you to stay, jackass,” he laughed. He couldn’t stop the giggles bubbling up in his throat - he was just so incredibly happy to have Dean, to have everything on its way to okay again. “I love you. Why wouldn’t I want you here? I don’t want to lose you again. If that means taking care of your whiny ass for a couple months, then I’ll gladly rise to the challenge. I love you. End of story.”
Dean smiled, eyes lighting up mischievously. “You love me, huh? Despite my whiny ass?”
Sam narrowed his eyes, grin still plastered on his face as he realized what was coming. He leaned forward into Dean’s personal space, so close their breaths were mingling, and whispered, “Maybe I love you because of your ass.”
Dean nodded. Then, like they were sharing a big secret, he put his lips right next to Sam’s ear and whispered, “Show me.”
And, really, Sam didn’t need more of an invitation than that.
* * *
Dean wasn’t really sure how he’d ended up at Sam’s door at 5:00 in the morning. He’d gone on a walk to clear his head before heading to the station at noon and facing Sam. Bobby had taken pity on them and kept their shifts separate, but apparently enough was enough. He knew it was Bobby’s way of telling Dean to get his act together, but after a month of nothing but small talk and fleeting glances as they passed each other during shift changes, spending 48 straight hours with Sam was not going to be easy.
So, he’d started walking. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t even been paying attention to where we was going, but apparently his feet were completely in synch with his heart because he’d blinked and suddenly found himself staring at the bright gold 321 of Sam’s door.
He figured he might as well knock since he was here. And he wasn’t the least bit surprised when Sam opened the door just a few seconds later.
Sam’s eyes widened when they saw who was at his door, mouth open to most likely tell off whoever it was for coming so early. “Dean?” he asked, the sound barely crossing the threshold.
Dean tried to smile, he really did, but this was the first time he’d actually seen Sam up close since he’d run out of the station two weeks before. He looked about as exhausted and miserable as Dean felt. After a few minutes of just staring at each other, Dean finally whispered, “Hey, Sammy.”
The corners of Sam’s mouth quirked up in a small smile, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He’d missed Sam’s smile. He’d missed Sam’s everything. He suddenly had the overwhelming urge to just pour his heart out, to confess every misdeed he’d ever done if it would clear the air between them.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, not sure where he was going with this. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I got scared. Gordon and Jake attacked us, and I got scared. And I ran. Because…because that’s what I do. I run. I run away from my problems, because that makes them go away. I run in hopes that when the dust settles, it’ll cover up my issues and hide them away. I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me, and that’s what happened that night.
“I was so happy, just being with you, and then they showed up. And they ruined it all. I was convinced that things like that, monsters like that, were what you got for being happy. My entire life, I’ve never seen anyone truly happy that didn’t get their heart broken in the end. I tried to protect you, Sammy. I tried so hard to keep you from getting hurt, and I was the one who caused it. I told everyone we were gay, and we both could have gotten killed because of that.”
Dean paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and wiping the tears that had slipped down his face without his knowledge. He felt like a tool, standing on Sam’s doorstep, staring at his shoes, pouring his heart out for anyone to hear, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop now that he’d gotten started. He wanted Sam to know how he felt, how sorry he was. Even if they couldn’t go back, he wanted Sam to know.
“I didn’t want to hurt you when it all fell apart, when it finally got to the point where I couldn’t breathe when you were around. I didn’t want to be put on that long list of people who had shunned you. But, then I realized that I can’t breathe when you’re not around, Sammy. The past month, I’ve been walking around in a complete daze, not seeing anything, not feeling anything. Without you next to me, there’s nothing. I have nothing without you, Sammy. I’m so sorry that I threw that all away because I’m too chicken to just deal with my issues.”
“Dean,” Sam said softly, ending Dean’s rambling.
Dean dared to look at his face again, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw the understanding in Sam’s eyes.
“Sammy?” That word was so foreign to him now. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d last said it, since it last held any ounce of meaning, since it was second nature to say it and put a smile on Sam’s face. Now it felt like a prayer, that one word better than any ‘Amen.’ It was almost a bargaining chip, a small peace offering that could make his heart repair itself.
Sam held out his hand behind him, gesturing to his small apartment. “C’mon in.”
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Dean nodded, sniffling, and stepped in. He was once again wondering when he’d turned into such a friggin’ girl. Sam was the one with the hair, after all. He had never been one to let his emotions overwhelm him, the hardness of a Marine drilled into him since Day One.
“So…you freaked?” Sam asked, coming up behind him where he stood at the kitchen counter, close enough for Dean to feel the heat radiating from Sam’s body.
Without turning around, Dean nodded. “I freaked,” he whispered. “I…my dad…things have been ingrained in me my entire life, ya know? And being gay…being different…”
Sam laid a hand on his shoulder, his fingers gently wrapping around. The gesture was so comforting, so Sam that Dean was sure his heart just broke all over again. “What about being different?”
Dean shrugged, still not looking back at Sam. “It’s just not accepted. But I…for you, I tried. I put all of that behind me because I couldn’t let you think badly of me. I didn’t want you thinking that I didn’t want this, that I didn’t want you. So I let it go. I even called my mom, told her about this great guy that I’m…”
“That you’re what?”
Only then did Dean turn, breath catching in his throat when he noticed how close Sammy really was. Sam’s face was mere inches from his own, eyes shining brightly with barely-contained tears. It was time to come clean, to say what he’d been wanting to say before he’d even been sure it was what he really felt.
“I told her that I’m in love with you,” he said quietly.
He walked away from Sam, into the living room, and looked out the small window at the people starting their day. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the burning of his own tears. He felt like his body was on fire, emotions flowing through his veins like poison, body trying to purge itself of the misery Dean had inflicted on it.
There were no sounds coming from Sam. Dean figured he was probably just staring at Dean’s back, dumbfounded. Hell, even Dean hadn’t expected those words to come out of his mouth. But they were out there now, hanging in the air over their heads like a death sentence.
The silence was suffocating him, and Dean started talking again just to fill it. “My dad, he, uh… His partner. Well, former partner. He had this pretty wife, couple of kids. One day, he walked into the garage and told Dad that he was getting a divorce. Dad played the sympathetic buddy, asked what had happened, all that stuff. Then Tommy, he said that he was gay. Dad flipped. I’ve never seen that man so pissed off. He just started swinging, pounding Tom into the ground, calling him all sorts of names. I was a senior in high school at the time, starting to realize that maybe I wasn’t as straight as I’d like to believe.”
He turned around and looked at Sam, noticing that he’d barely moved from his spot by the counter, eyes a little unfocused. Dean had no idea what to say. There wasn’t anything else he could say. He’d put himself out there, and it was up to Sam now. He fully expected Sam to throw him out, tell him how much of a jackass he was. Tell him that he was well on his way to becoming just like his homophobic, drill sergeant of a father.
“You love me?” Sam breathed, eyes locking on Dean’s. “You’re in love with me?”
Dean nodded, averting his gaze. “Yeah, I am. I do. I…so much it hurts. It hurts when you’re not there. It hurts just thinking about you not being there. Sammy…”
His voice broke on Sam’s name, proving him to be the weakling he was. That suffocating feeling was back, the difficulty of breathing in without Sam. Dean had to get out, get away from the weight of Sam’s reaction, because it would never get better, not until -
“Me, too.”
Dean’s thoughts stuttered to a screeching halt, and his head snapped up. Sam was smiling, not quite the beaming smile that Dean was used to, but it was a start. Even so, Dean still couldn’t grasp what was going on. The conversation, however one-sided it was, had taken a turn that he hadn’t seen.
“Huh?”
Sam’s smile grew, his eyes losing some of the pain they’d been carrying around. He took a few steps closer to Dean. “I love you, too, Dean.”
“Oh.” Dean blinked a few times, not sure he could trust his senses - it had been a good month since they’d actually worked correctly. “You do?”
Sam nodded, taking another couple of steps. Dean found his own feet moving him closer to Sam until they were within a foot of each other. He was a little surprised that he was smiling, the action unfamiliar to him now. His cheeks almost hurt with the muscle strain, but it was a good hurt.
“Sammy,” he whispered, wanting to repeat the name over and over again until it manifested in a physical form. “Sammy.”
He wasted no more time in pulling Sam close, locking his arms around Sam’s waist. Sam leaned down, hands settling on Dean’s hips, and brushing his lips against Dean’s softly, teasingly. Dean made a low, guttural sound and pushed up against Sam, pressing their lips more firmly together.
Sam smiled, the motion fleeting as he licked between Dean’s lips, walking him back until they hit the couch and tumbled down in an awkward tangle of limbs. Dean grunted when Sam’s weight fell on top of him, but his only move was to pull Sam in tighter, threading his hands through the silky chestnut hair and forcing their kiss deeper.
He wasn’t sure how he was feeling, too overwhelmed to pin down any one emotion and too giddy to care. But he had Sam there with him, and that was really all that mattered. Sam was there, pressed against him, grinding down onto him, tucked into all the right places.
Sammy loved him. And he loved Sam. After years of chasing tails, he had finally found that one previously unattainable idea: happiness.
“God, Dean,” Sam panted as he broke their kiss, moving his mouth down to Dean’s neck, sucking hard over the pulse point.
Dean arched his neck to give him better leverage, whining at the back of his throat. He was harder than he could ever remember being, grinding his dick on Sam’s thigh, trying to get some desperately-needed friction. “Sammy. Can’t. Gotta.”
“Shh,” Sam soothed, cool air blowing across heated, spit-slicked skin. Dean shivered at the contact, still with enough presence of mind to smack Sam for laughing at him for it. “I’ve got you.”
Sam pulled Dean up into a sitting position, pulling at the hem of his T-shirt. Dean raised his arms, letting Sam pulling the offending item of clothing up and off as he kicked off his boots. He started to do the same to Sam, but Sam pulled out of his reach.
“No,” he whispered. “Let me do this.”
Then he shucked his own clothing, slow enough for Dean to enjoy the show, but fast enough to stay with the program. Three months, and they’d never really gotten to the point of seeing each other completely naked. So once Sam had completely removed everything, Dean could help but stare.
Sam was a beautiful person, both inside and out. His intelligence and sense of humor made his personality shine, but physically, he was a sight to behold. Broad shoulders, slim waist, muscles standing out at everywhere. And to see him standing there in all his glory, almost shaking with nerves, Dean fell harder.
“C’mere,” he whispered, gesturing with a nod of his head. “Show me.”
Sam smiled shyly, standing up straighter, with a little more confidence. He moved back to the couch, sucking the skin of Dean’s collarbone as he popped the button on Dean’s jeans. The zipper went down slowly, the metallic clicks echoing in the expectant silence of the room.
Dean lifted his hips as Sam slid his jeans down his legs, taking his underwear with them. He could feel himself blush as Sam sat back on his haunches and looked down at him appraisingly, and he barely managed to resist covering himself up. Dean Winchester was not shy when it came to sex, but with Sam, the possibility that he wouldn’t be worthy actually hurt.
“Beautiful,” Sam breathed, running his hand up Dean’s thigh. “So pretty.”
He followed the path of his hand with his mouth, placing soft, gentle kisses up one leg and then the other, bypassing Dean’s groin altogether, causing the older man to practically whimper with need.
Sam moved to Dean’s torso, sucking bruises into the skin around his navel. As he moved up Dean’s chest, dropping kisses every few inches, he wrapped his hand around Dean’s dick, jacking him slowly, precum dripping from the slit and easing the way for Sam’s hand. Dean arched up, back coming completely off the couch, when Sam’s mouth wrapped around a nipple, the forceful sucking a contrast to the slow, steady pace of Sam’s hand
“Sammy,” he whimpered, breath coming in short pants. “Want you in me, need you.”
Sam sat back then, losing his grip on Dean, and looked at him with wide eyes. They hadn’t managed to get to the actual fucking part, before Dean ended things, both wanting to move slowly and feel their way into a relationship.
“Are you sure?” Sam asked, voice trembling.
Dean smiled. “Yeah, just…go slow? S’been a while since I bottomed…”
Sam scrambled off the couch and headed toward his bedroom, leaving a confused Dean behind. He reappeared seconds later with a bottle of lube and condoms, though, causing Dean to let out a relieved laugh. “I thought you were going to leave me all exposed,” he explained with a smirk at Sam’s questioning expression.
Sam nodded distractedly, climbed back on top of Dean. “Let me know if you want to stop, okay? This isn’t…We don’t have to…”
Dean pulled Sam’s face down to his for a possessive kiss. “Just do it,” he growled.
Sam gave a slight, jerky nod and moved down Dean’s legs, popping the cap of the lube as the condom fell to the floor. He poured a generous amount over his fingers, and let the bottle drop, as well. He trailed sticky, wet fingers down over Dean’s balls, rubbing his fingers against Dean’s hole before pushing one finger in slowly.
Dean hissed in a breath at the slight stretch, forgetting how weird it would feel at first. He nodded at Sam’s pause, encouraging him to go on. Sam did, moving the one finger in and out until Dean was moving with him, then adding another. He wrapped his other hand around Dean’s dick again, providing a distraction for the slight burn.
Dean expected it to hurt more, considering it had been years since he’d even considering bottoming. But he wanted Sam, wanted Sam so much that it would hurt worse not having that connection. He figured he was pretty relaxed, which helped, floating on Cloud Nine after Sam’s declaration. He hardly noticed the third finger slipping in, writhing at Sam’s ministrations.
“Okay?” Sam whispered.
Dean nodded. He gritted his teeth at the pressure of holding back, especially when Sam’s fingers began to brush against his prostrate, causing him to buck up. “God, Sammy, just do it,” he panted through tiny pleasure explosions. “Want you.”
Sam didn’t need any more than that, removing his fingers and getting himself ready. “You sure about this?” he asked as he positioned himself, sheathed cock pressing against Dean’s entrance. “We could do it another way…”
Dean shook his head. “Wanna see you,” he said as he locked eyes with Sam.
He wrapped his hands around Sam’s hips and pulled, forcing Sam inside him, deep as he could in one smooth move. Sam was bigger than anyone he’d had before, and his breath caught in his throat at the foreign feeling. He held Sam in place for a few minutes before releasing him and telling him to move.
Sam slowly slid out and back in; Dean could see the muscles in his thighs straining from holding back. After a few slow thrusts, though, the need became overwhelming, and Sam drove home, pounding into Dean, getting deeper with each thrust. Dean matched him, move for move, twisting his hips so that Sam was angled just right.
Sam’s hands were gripping Dean’s hips hard enough that there would surely be bruises when this was all said and done. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s shoulder and pulled him down into a messy kiss. That angle was even better, Dean’s dick riding the ridges of Sam’s stomach as Sam’s dick hit his prostate ruthlessly on every powerful thrust.
There was moaning filling the sex-charged air of Sam’s apartment as the sun started to filter in through Sam’s living room curtains, half-formed curses and bitten-off groans muffled into each other’s mouths.
Dean wanted it to last forever, the feeling of total completeness he felt at that moment, their bodies moving together in synch. But, too soon, he was coming, white ropes of sticky fluid shooting between them as stars exploded behind Dean’s eyes, Sam’s name murmured into a passionate kiss.
Sam’s thrust became erratic as Dean’s walls clenched around him. Dean was completely useless as his orgasm was milked out of him, slumping back against the couch, boneless, as Sam continued thrusting into him, separating their mouths only to suck a bruise into Dean’s shoulder.
A handful of thrusts later, Sam was coming too, biting down on Dean’s collarbone. Dean could feel Sam’s dick pulsing inside him as he spilled into the condom, moan vibrating Dean’s skin.
Sam collapsed, moving to the side and pulling out of Dean. He reached between them and pulled off the used condom, tied the end and tossed it in the general vicinity of their clothes.
“Sleep,” Dean murmured as Sam wrapped his arms and legs around him. The couch was a tight fit, but that was perfectly fine with Dean. He could cuddle, if necessary. And he figured it was pretty damn necessary, considering the weight of the morning’s events.
“When do we hafta be at the station?” Sam asked, nuzzling his face into Dean’s neck.
Dean raised his arm and squinted at his watch for a second before wrapping it around Sam again. “Four hours,” he mumbled, eyes closing of their own volition.
He could feel Sam nod, heard him say something else, but he was already drifting off into a sated sleep.
* * *
They were finally gone. Gone for good. Sam couldn’t believe it - he and Dean were finally alone, without the chance that Dean’s parents would walk in at any moment.
“So,” Dean started as Sam settled next to him on the couch and stole the remote control from his boyfriend. “I’m thinking you should just move in.”
Sam stopped flipping through channels, jerking up in shock and letting the remote clatter to the floor. He turned his head to stare at Dean, too surprised to even laugh at Dean’s attempts to get the remote off the floor without jarring his injured leg.
“What did you say?” he squeaked, the sound barely audible even to his own ears.
Dean sat up in a huff, remote gripped firmly in one hand. “I said,” he stressed, rolling his shoulders back, “that you should move in.”
Sam gulped. “That’s what I thought you said.”
Dean clucked his tongue, looking around the room absently. “Bad idea?” he asked as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.
Sam let out a nervous chuckle.
“No, not a bad idea,” he responded, trying to figure out exactly what he thought about that. It was actually pretty reasonable. After all, he’d agreed to help take care of Dean, which meant that he’d be practically living with him anyway, helping get around the house and shower and everything. And he loved being with Dean; he was already sure that he was going to miss him when Dean was healed and able to help himself again. So…why not?
“Okay,” he said, nodding his head. “Yeah.”
Dean shifted his gaze back to Sam. “Eh?” he replied, eyebrow cocked.
Sam laughed, a giddy sound that he’d never suspected could come from him. Until that moment, he’d never understood it when people said they were ‘high on life,’ but he got it now. Because he was high on Dean. “I said,” he teased, “that yeah, I’ll move in with you. I figure I’m gonna be around most of the time anyway, so…Wait. Did you mean temporarily or permanently?”
Dean punched him in the shoulder. “Permanently, bitch,” he smirked. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m going to be a pain in your ass, 24/7.”
Sam grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Pain in my ass, huh? Literally or figuratively?”
Dean matched his grin, tongue wetting his lips obscenely. “Whatever you want, Sammy.”
Sam nodded, pretending to think it over for a moment. Then he just shrugged and grabbed the remote control again, settling on an episode of Ghost Hunters, and propped his feet on Dean’s cast. “I’ll show you what I want. Later.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Dean narrow his eyes in what he supposed was supposed to be a threatening manner. He laughed. “I’ll carry you over the threshold?” he offered.
Dean snorted. “Like you’ve got any other choice,” he mumbled, settling in to watch the show, fingers massaging Sam’s ankle.
Sam smiled at him fondly. After all the issues they’d faced, here they were, getting a piece of their happily ever after. He’d never thought that it would be possible for a guy like him, coming from the outskirts of society. But, then again, Dean was kind of an outcast too. They might seem different to ‘normal’ people, but who cared?
Normal was boring anyhow.
* * *
The first thing Dean noticed when he woke up wasn’t the heavy arm draped across his chest, or even the soft hair that was tickling his nose. No, the first thing Dean noticed was the feeling complete and utter contentment, something he’d been sure he would never have again. Not after what had happened with Gordon and Jake. Not after the stunt he’d pulled.
“Stop thinking.”
Dean chuckled softly, looking down to find Sam’s bleary eyes blinking at him. “I wasn’t thinking, dude,” he responded, resisting the urge to kiss Sam senseless.
Sam snorted and pushed himself up to a sitting position. “You were. You were thinking about how you’re surprised that you have someone as stunning as me lying in your bed,” he said, smirking down at Dean. Then he looked down and amended, “Well, on my couch, rather.”
Dean couldn’t help but smile. That wasn’t quite what he was thinking, but he was fully aware that Sam knew that. “Nah,” he chided, easily falling back into the banter he’d missed for over a month. “I was actually thinking about how to let you down easy and slip out without you noticing.”
Sam laughed at that, one of those head-thrown-back, booming laughs that Dean always found so endearing. It was nice to hear it again.
Still chuckling quietly, Sam climbed off the couch and padded away naked. Dean figured that “aha!” he heard a few moments later was the sound of Sam finding his boxers somewhere in the short distance between the living room and the kitchen.
Without the distraction of Sam, he let his thoughts drift back to earlier that morning - and everything that he’d revealed. He’d thought for sure that his speech was going to be met with contempt, maybe even hatred. After all, he was the one who gave up when the going got tough.
“You’re thinking again,” Sam said, standing over him fully dressed and holding out Dean’s clothes. “Up. We gotta get to the station.”
Dean complied, dressing and wrapping his hand in Sam’s as they walked to the station. It was a nice morning, Spring just around the corner, cool breeze ruffling their hair as they strode along, bantering. It was great, just being them again.
Three hours later, as they were deeply involved in robbing Andy and Anson of their money in a poker game, the alarms started sounding. They all leaped into action, Dean making fun of Sam in his gear just like he always had - though he and everyone else knew that he was just trying to distract himself from how hot he looked in the get-up.
As they all climbed onto the gleaming red truck, ready to head for an apartment building on fire, Dean pulled Sam close, gear making the embrace a little less intimate. “I love you,” he whispered in his ear, giving him a quick peck on the lips.
Sam’s smile was blinding as he walked away, backwards, toward the trunk. “You too!” he called back with a wink. “Now let’s go save some people!”
Dean let out a loud whoop and hopped on the back of the truck, barely staying on as it pulled away. Today was going to be a good day.
*********************************************************************************************
A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I had one hell of a time writing this and, if you've made it through to the end, I really hope you enjoyed it! :)
Let me know what you think?
_
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Sam could hardly contain himself, nervous energy causing him to bounce on the balls of his feet as he waited for someone to answer Dean’s door. He’d been psyching himself up for two days for what he was about to do. He’d seen Dean the day after talking with the guys at the bar, and he realized that the only time he felt even remotely complete was when Dean was there. He knew he couldn’t go on without that feeling.
This time, unlike his past visits, it was Dean’s father who opened the door. And he didn’t look happy to see Sam on the other side. “You again?” he sneered. “Can’t you stay away from Dean for more than 24 hours?”
Sam opened his mouth to reply, not quite sure what he was going to say, but Dean’s voice from within stopped him. “Who’s at the door, Dad?”
“It’s that boy again!” John called over his shoulder.
Mary appeared at the door to the living room, her face splitting into a bright smile when she saw Sam. She turned to her husband, eyes narrowed menacingly. “John Winchester, you step away from that door right now and let that boy into this apartment.”
John looked like he was about to respond, but Mary took a couple steps toward him and his mouth snapped audibly shut. “Fine,” he gritted out through clenched teeth and stepped away from the door to let Sam through.
Sam wasted no time in striding toward the living room, not too keen on being under John Winchester’s scrutiny any longer than he had to. When he got to Mary, he leaned down and accepted her hug. Not quite sure how it would be received, he whispered in her ear, “Give me a few minutes with him?”
Mary pulled back, scrutinizing him so keenly that Sam barely resisted squirming. “Okay,” she said, sly smile spreading across her face. “Okay.”
Sam smiled in thanks and walked into the living room, seeing Dean in his usual place on the couch. If it was possible, Sam’s smile grew bigger, his heart racing as all of his reservations just melted away. He knew that he was making the right choice.
“Hey,” he said, bouncing slightly again. Dean looked much better than he had the last time Sam had seen him; he was more rested. The circles under his eyes had almost entirely disappeared.
They could hear Dean’s parents talking out in the hall, a hushed argument that Mary was obviously winning. A few minutes later, Mary called out that they’d be back in about 15 minutes or so, that they were going to grab some food, then the front door slammed.
Sam wasted no time in rushing over to kiss Dean. It was shorter than he would have liked, but they needed to talk and getting distracted really wasn’t the best way to do that.
“Hey, Sammy,” Dean mumbled, running his thumb along Sam’s lower lip, eyeing Sam’s face like he was trying to remember it again. “You look happy.”
Sam nodded, kissing the pad of Dean’s thumb in a move so sweet it even surprised him. “I am,” he whispered, taking both of Dean’s hands in his own. “So, I’ve been thinking and -”
Sam was cut off when Dean grabbed his face and pulled him up for another kiss, nothing sweet about this one. Dean licked and bit his way into Sam’s mouth, pulling Sam’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugging. Sam wasn’t really sure what had brought on Dean’s possessiveness, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t going straight to his cock.
Reluctantly, he managed to pull away from Dean and sit cross-legged on the floor, keeping Dean’s hand firmly grasped in his own. “Dean,” he laughed, “that’s really not what I’m here for, dude. I need to talk to you.”
Dean slumped back against the pillows he was propped up against, pouting. “I promise, we can make out all you want later. We can do plenty more, too, but I’d rather not have this conversation with your parents - especially your father present, okay?”
Dean grumbled out an affirmative, and Sam pulled his hands up to his mouth to kiss each one of them, laughing again when Dean couldn’t stop his lips from quirking up in the beginnings of a grin. “You’re so corny, dude,” he said. “Remember the no chick-click moments?”
“Yeah, okay, jerk.”
“Bitch.”
Sam rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath to start his well-rehearsed speech again. “As I was saying before. I’ve been thinking, about what you said, about this whole Kansas thing and I -”
Sam was interrupted again, but by Dean’s parents this time. Apparently, 15 minutes had gone by faster than Sam thought. They heard the door slam, and Sam automatically pulled his hands away from Dean’s, turning to face the door to the hallway.
Mary appeared first, smiling at the both of them before moving on into the kitchen. When John came through the door, he stopped in his tracks, looking at them with an expression that Sam couldn’t read. He did notice the glint of anger in his eyes though; he’d seen that far too much throughout his 20 years.
“John? What’re you…” Mary reappeared in the archway that connected the living room to the connection, looking between John and the other two almost fearfully. “Is something wrong?”
John stood up to his full height, causing Sam to cower back even though he was 15 feet away. “I think these boys have something they need to tell us, Mary.”
“D-dad,” Dean stuttered. “It’s…I…”
Sam saw his chance then, the only opening he might have for the rest of the night, maybe forever if John got his way. He turned back toward Dean and grabbed Dean’s wrist, running his fingers along the scarring to soothe both himself and Dean, not caring what it might look like to Dean’s father. Maybe he was stepping on Dean’s toes, maybe he was effectively outing him to his father, but he was far more concerned with saying what he’d come there to say.
“Choose me,” he said quickly, before he lost his nerve. “Dean, please. I know that your parents might be able to take care of you better than I or anyone else could, but… Choose. Me. Stay with me. Pick me.”
He was holding his breath, waiting for Dean’s reaction, and he closed his eyes, not sure that he could stand to see the look on Dean’s face if he said no.
“Sammy,” Dean whispered. “Look at me.”
Sam looked up.
And then Dean smiled.
* * *
Dean could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, blood roaring past. But all he could see was Sam, standing across the room. It was the first time he’d seen him in two and a half weeks, and he had to admit that Andy’s assessment was right on the money: he looked terrible. He stood hunched over, like there was too much weight on his shoulders to stand up straight - even though Sam never did stand completely straight, trying to make himself seem smaller than he was, less intimidating. But now it looked like he just wanted to make himself disappear. Hell, even his hair looked depressed. He looked like someone had not only kicked his puppy, but then proceeded to run it over with a car.
Four times.
Dean ached to walk over there. He wanted to just throw his arms around Sam and apologize. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, grovel and plead until Sam took him back and forgave him for his stupidity.
But then Sam looked up and noticed him. His face completely shut down, void of any emotion. His eyes just bored holes into Dean, who could feel his heart leap into his throat.
“You okay, man?” Henricksen’s voice sounded right next to his ear, startling him.
Dean turned to look at his friend. “I don’t…No, Vic, I’m not okay,” he responded, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice, though he was sure that he was failing miserably.
Henricksen gave him a small smile, reaching out to squeeze Dean’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “You know I’m here if you need anything, right?”
Dean nodded, not even bothering to try and hide his pain. “Yeah, I know,” he said. He turned to look at Sam again, noticing with disappointment that Sam had turned away from him and was joking around with Roland, a wide grin on his face.
“I can’t do this,” he muttered, backing toward the door. “Tell Bobby…I don’t know. Tell Bobby anything, but I just…I can’t.”
He didn’t wait for Henricksen’s response, he just bolted, racing down the stairs. He only paused when he made it outside and doubled over, his breath catching in his throat, lungs burning from the effort of holding back his tears. Whatever dumbass reason he’d had for breaking up with Sam, he was wrong. Dean was certain, in that moment, that the pain would never go away.
A hand on his shoulder shocked air back into his lungs, and he spun around to find himself face to face with Sam.
“S-sam,” he ground out, trying harder to keep the tears at bay. He opened his mouth to say more, but he didn’t know what else to say. What do you say to someone whose heart you broke, shattering your own in the process?
“You all right?” Sam asked, concern evident in his wide, hazel eyes.
Dean nodded dumbly, backing out of Sam’s reach. “Fine, Sam,” he forced out, plastering a wide, fake smile on his face. “You know me. Always land on my feet.”
He ignored Sam’s calls of his name as he took off for his apartment, running until he rounded the corner and let his despair get the better of him.
* * *
Sam could feel the muscles in his cheeks practically aching from the force of his grin. Dean was going to stay. Dean wanted to stay, with him. All he’d had to was ask.
“Dean?” John’s gruff voice broke the moment.
Dean’s eyes widened almost comically as fear completely gripped Sam’s heart. John was an ex-marine who could probably rip Sam apart with his bare hands. He’d seen the strength that Dean had gained due to John’s rigorous “football” training growing up. There was no doubt in his mind that if it came to blows, Sam would be out like a light.
But then the expression on Dean’s face shifted into one of hardened resolution, and Sam’s heart soared.
“Dad,” Dean said, sitting up straighter.
Sam turned around to look at John and Mary, noticing the look of pride on Mary’s face. He couldn’t help but feel proud himself. Dean was finally standing up to the father that had put him down his entire life.
“You want to explain this to me?” John said, eyes narrowed menacingly.
“Yes, sir,” Dean said, with absolute sincerity. Sam probably would have been mocking that for all it was worth. “I’m gay, sir.”
John’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You want to run that by me again?”
“I said I’m gay, sir,” Dean repeated, slowly, as though he were talking to a small child.
John took a step forward, baring his teeth in what Sam figured was supposed to be a smile, unpleasant though it may be. “That’s not accepted in this family, Dean, and you know that.”
Dean laughed bitterly, and Sam reached up to link their fingers together in the only act of defiance he could think of.
”I’m not changing, sir,” Dean said, voice shaking slightly. “You can accept it or disown me, but I’m not going back to Kansas with you either way. I’m staying here, with Sam.”
“Is that so, soldier?” John growled.
“I’m not a soldier, Dad,” Dean spat. “I’m your son. It’s about damn time you see that.”
“You are not going to speak me like that.” John took another step forward, hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Do I need to remind you who’s in charge here?”
“John Winchester!” Mary yelled, stepping in front of John and pushing him back. “You are not going to do anything to Dean. I’ve watched you bully him all his life, being a drill sergeant instead of a father, and I won’t stand for it anymore.”
“Mary, you have no idea -”
“Don’t I?” she asked incredulously, getting right into John’s face. “Dean is 25 years old, plenty old enough to be making his own choices. And, you know what? I’ve been waiting for him to stand up to you for years. Dean is who he is. And he’s gay, so what? He loves someone who loves him, and that’s all we have the right to ask for. So, John Winchester, you get off your high horse and take a good look at your son. If you walk away from him now, I will never forgive you.”
Sam had to admire her for her fierce protection of her son; it was no wonder Dean loved her so much. Even Sam was a little afraid of her. And to give her even more credit, John look chastised. He’d taken a few steps back so that he was almost in the hallway. And Sam thought that he just looked tired, like he’d finally lost a decades-long war.
“Dean, I…” John couldn’t even look at either one of them. “I’m sorry.”
And it actually sounded sincere.
Dean just stared at his father, obviously struggling for something to say. In the end he just settled for a short nod.
Mary clapped her hands. “John, why don’t we head out to a hotel or something? Give Dean some time with Sam…Give you time to cool off. This can all wait until the morning.”
John glanced at Mary then moved back out into the hallway without a word. Mary waited for him to walk out the front door before turning back to Sam and Dean, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She immediately moved across the room and enveloped Dean in a hug.
“Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you,” she whispered.
Dean patted her back absently. “I know, Mama.”
When Mary finally let go of Dean, she hugged Sam. “Thank you,” she told him.
Sam wasn’t sure what he was being thanked for, but he nodded anyway, mumbling, “You’re welcome.” He was pretty sure it sounded more like a question than a statement.
As Mary followed her husband out of the apartment, she was calling over her shoulder the whole time, already talking about plans for Thanksgiving, which was weeks away.
When Sam figured they were safely alone, he slumped back against the couch in relief, letting his head thump back against Dean’s leg. “I thought, for sure, that your dad was going to kill me,” he told Dean, arching his neck to smile up at him.
Dean laughed, patting Sam on the head. “Well, I thought he was going to kill me, so I guess we both got lucky, huh?” he responded.
They settled into a comfortable silence, Sam drifting along the edges of sleep as Dean’s fingers sifted through his hair. It was nice, just being there with Dean. There was no drama, no wantneednow to deal with. It was just them. Sam and Dean. Dean and Sam.
“Sammy?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you mean it?”
Sam sat up and turned to face Dean, brow furrowed in confusion. He had obviously missed some part of the conversation. “Did I mean what?”
Dean looked down sheepishly, playing with a loose thread on his sweatpants. “That you want me to stay?” he mumbled shyly.
Sam cuffed Dean on the shoulder. “Of course I want you to stay, jackass,” he laughed. He couldn’t stop the giggles bubbling up in his throat - he was just so incredibly happy to have Dean, to have everything on its way to okay again. “I love you. Why wouldn’t I want you here? I don’t want to lose you again. If that means taking care of your whiny ass for a couple months, then I’ll gladly rise to the challenge. I love you. End of story.”
Dean smiled, eyes lighting up mischievously. “You love me, huh? Despite my whiny ass?”
Sam narrowed his eyes, grin still plastered on his face as he realized what was coming. He leaned forward into Dean’s personal space, so close their breaths were mingling, and whispered, “Maybe I love you because of your ass.”
Dean nodded. Then, like they were sharing a big secret, he put his lips right next to Sam’s ear and whispered, “Show me.”
And, really, Sam didn’t need more of an invitation than that.
* * *
Dean wasn’t really sure how he’d ended up at Sam’s door at 5:00 in the morning. He’d gone on a walk to clear his head before heading to the station at noon and facing Sam. Bobby had taken pity on them and kept their shifts separate, but apparently enough was enough. He knew it was Bobby’s way of telling Dean to get his act together, but after a month of nothing but small talk and fleeting glances as they passed each other during shift changes, spending 48 straight hours with Sam was not going to be easy.
So, he’d started walking. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t even been paying attention to where we was going, but apparently his feet were completely in synch with his heart because he’d blinked and suddenly found himself staring at the bright gold 321 of Sam’s door.
He figured he might as well knock since he was here. And he wasn’t the least bit surprised when Sam opened the door just a few seconds later.
Sam’s eyes widened when they saw who was at his door, mouth open to most likely tell off whoever it was for coming so early. “Dean?” he asked, the sound barely crossing the threshold.
Dean tried to smile, he really did, but this was the first time he’d actually seen Sam up close since he’d run out of the station two weeks before. He looked about as exhausted and miserable as Dean felt. After a few minutes of just staring at each other, Dean finally whispered, “Hey, Sammy.”
The corners of Sam’s mouth quirked up in a small smile, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He’d missed Sam’s smile. He’d missed Sam’s everything. He suddenly had the overwhelming urge to just pour his heart out, to confess every misdeed he’d ever done if it would clear the air between them.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, not sure where he was going with this. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I got scared. Gordon and Jake attacked us, and I got scared. And I ran. Because…because that’s what I do. I run. I run away from my problems, because that makes them go away. I run in hopes that when the dust settles, it’ll cover up my issues and hide them away. I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me, and that’s what happened that night.
“I was so happy, just being with you, and then they showed up. And they ruined it all. I was convinced that things like that, monsters like that, were what you got for being happy. My entire life, I’ve never seen anyone truly happy that didn’t get their heart broken in the end. I tried to protect you, Sammy. I tried so hard to keep you from getting hurt, and I was the one who caused it. I told everyone we were gay, and we both could have gotten killed because of that.”
Dean paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and wiping the tears that had slipped down his face without his knowledge. He felt like a tool, standing on Sam’s doorstep, staring at his shoes, pouring his heart out for anyone to hear, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop now that he’d gotten started. He wanted Sam to know how he felt, how sorry he was. Even if they couldn’t go back, he wanted Sam to know.
“I didn’t want to hurt you when it all fell apart, when it finally got to the point where I couldn’t breathe when you were around. I didn’t want to be put on that long list of people who had shunned you. But, then I realized that I can’t breathe when you’re not around, Sammy. The past month, I’ve been walking around in a complete daze, not seeing anything, not feeling anything. Without you next to me, there’s nothing. I have nothing without you, Sammy. I’m so sorry that I threw that all away because I’m too chicken to just deal with my issues.”
“Dean,” Sam said softly, ending Dean’s rambling.
Dean dared to look at his face again, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw the understanding in Sam’s eyes.
“Sammy?” That word was so foreign to him now. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d last said it, since it last held any ounce of meaning, since it was second nature to say it and put a smile on Sam’s face. Now it felt like a prayer, that one word better than any ‘Amen.’ It was almost a bargaining chip, a small peace offering that could make his heart repair itself.
Sam held out his hand behind him, gesturing to his small apartment. “C’mon in.”
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Dean nodded, sniffling, and stepped in. He was once again wondering when he’d turned into such a friggin’ girl. Sam was the one with the hair, after all. He had never been one to let his emotions overwhelm him, the hardness of a Marine drilled into him since Day One.
“So…you freaked?” Sam asked, coming up behind him where he stood at the kitchen counter, close enough for Dean to feel the heat radiating from Sam’s body.
Without turning around, Dean nodded. “I freaked,” he whispered. “I…my dad…things have been ingrained in me my entire life, ya know? And being gay…being different…”
Sam laid a hand on his shoulder, his fingers gently wrapping around. The gesture was so comforting, so Sam that Dean was sure his heart just broke all over again. “What about being different?”
Dean shrugged, still not looking back at Sam. “It’s just not accepted. But I…for you, I tried. I put all of that behind me because I couldn’t let you think badly of me. I didn’t want you thinking that I didn’t want this, that I didn’t want you. So I let it go. I even called my mom, told her about this great guy that I’m…”
“That you’re what?”
Only then did Dean turn, breath catching in his throat when he noticed how close Sammy really was. Sam’s face was mere inches from his own, eyes shining brightly with barely-contained tears. It was time to come clean, to say what he’d been wanting to say before he’d even been sure it was what he really felt.
“I told her that I’m in love with you,” he said quietly.
He walked away from Sam, into the living room, and looked out the small window at the people starting their day. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the burning of his own tears. He felt like his body was on fire, emotions flowing through his veins like poison, body trying to purge itself of the misery Dean had inflicted on it.
There were no sounds coming from Sam. Dean figured he was probably just staring at Dean’s back, dumbfounded. Hell, even Dean hadn’t expected those words to come out of his mouth. But they were out there now, hanging in the air over their heads like a death sentence.
The silence was suffocating him, and Dean started talking again just to fill it. “My dad, he, uh… His partner. Well, former partner. He had this pretty wife, couple of kids. One day, he walked into the garage and told Dad that he was getting a divorce. Dad played the sympathetic buddy, asked what had happened, all that stuff. Then Tommy, he said that he was gay. Dad flipped. I’ve never seen that man so pissed off. He just started swinging, pounding Tom into the ground, calling him all sorts of names. I was a senior in high school at the time, starting to realize that maybe I wasn’t as straight as I’d like to believe.”
He turned around and looked at Sam, noticing that he’d barely moved from his spot by the counter, eyes a little unfocused. Dean had no idea what to say. There wasn’t anything else he could say. He’d put himself out there, and it was up to Sam now. He fully expected Sam to throw him out, tell him how much of a jackass he was. Tell him that he was well on his way to becoming just like his homophobic, drill sergeant of a father.
“You love me?” Sam breathed, eyes locking on Dean’s. “You’re in love with me?”
Dean nodded, averting his gaze. “Yeah, I am. I do. I…so much it hurts. It hurts when you’re not there. It hurts just thinking about you not being there. Sammy…”
His voice broke on Sam’s name, proving him to be the weakling he was. That suffocating feeling was back, the difficulty of breathing in without Sam. Dean had to get out, get away from the weight of Sam’s reaction, because it would never get better, not until -
“Me, too.”
Dean’s thoughts stuttered to a screeching halt, and his head snapped up. Sam was smiling, not quite the beaming smile that Dean was used to, but it was a start. Even so, Dean still couldn’t grasp what was going on. The conversation, however one-sided it was, had taken a turn that he hadn’t seen.
“Huh?”
Sam’s smile grew, his eyes losing some of the pain they’d been carrying around. He took a few steps closer to Dean. “I love you, too, Dean.”
“Oh.” Dean blinked a few times, not sure he could trust his senses - it had been a good month since they’d actually worked correctly. “You do?”
Sam nodded, taking another couple of steps. Dean found his own feet moving him closer to Sam until they were within a foot of each other. He was a little surprised that he was smiling, the action unfamiliar to him now. His cheeks almost hurt with the muscle strain, but it was a good hurt.
“Sammy,” he whispered, wanting to repeat the name over and over again until it manifested in a physical form. “Sammy.”
He wasted no more time in pulling Sam close, locking his arms around Sam’s waist. Sam leaned down, hands settling on Dean’s hips, and brushing his lips against Dean’s softly, teasingly. Dean made a low, guttural sound and pushed up against Sam, pressing their lips more firmly together.
Sam smiled, the motion fleeting as he licked between Dean’s lips, walking him back until they hit the couch and tumbled down in an awkward tangle of limbs. Dean grunted when Sam’s weight fell on top of him, but his only move was to pull Sam in tighter, threading his hands through the silky chestnut hair and forcing their kiss deeper.
He wasn’t sure how he was feeling, too overwhelmed to pin down any one emotion and too giddy to care. But he had Sam there with him, and that was really all that mattered. Sam was there, pressed against him, grinding down onto him, tucked into all the right places.
Sammy loved him. And he loved Sam. After years of chasing tails, he had finally found that one previously unattainable idea: happiness.
“God, Dean,” Sam panted as he broke their kiss, moving his mouth down to Dean’s neck, sucking hard over the pulse point.
Dean arched his neck to give him better leverage, whining at the back of his throat. He was harder than he could ever remember being, grinding his dick on Sam’s thigh, trying to get some desperately-needed friction. “Sammy. Can’t. Gotta.”
“Shh,” Sam soothed, cool air blowing across heated, spit-slicked skin. Dean shivered at the contact, still with enough presence of mind to smack Sam for laughing at him for it. “I’ve got you.”
Sam pulled Dean up into a sitting position, pulling at the hem of his T-shirt. Dean raised his arms, letting Sam pulling the offending item of clothing up and off as he kicked off his boots. He started to do the same to Sam, but Sam pulled out of his reach.
“No,” he whispered. “Let me do this.”
Then he shucked his own clothing, slow enough for Dean to enjoy the show, but fast enough to stay with the program. Three months, and they’d never really gotten to the point of seeing each other completely naked. So once Sam had completely removed everything, Dean could help but stare.
Sam was a beautiful person, both inside and out. His intelligence and sense of humor made his personality shine, but physically, he was a sight to behold. Broad shoulders, slim waist, muscles standing out at everywhere. And to see him standing there in all his glory, almost shaking with nerves, Dean fell harder.
“C’mere,” he whispered, gesturing with a nod of his head. “Show me.”
Sam smiled shyly, standing up straighter, with a little more confidence. He moved back to the couch, sucking the skin of Dean’s collarbone as he popped the button on Dean’s jeans. The zipper went down slowly, the metallic clicks echoing in the expectant silence of the room.
Dean lifted his hips as Sam slid his jeans down his legs, taking his underwear with them. He could feel himself blush as Sam sat back on his haunches and looked down at him appraisingly, and he barely managed to resist covering himself up. Dean Winchester was not shy when it came to sex, but with Sam, the possibility that he wouldn’t be worthy actually hurt.
“Beautiful,” Sam breathed, running his hand up Dean’s thigh. “So pretty.”
He followed the path of his hand with his mouth, placing soft, gentle kisses up one leg and then the other, bypassing Dean’s groin altogether, causing the older man to practically whimper with need.
Sam moved to Dean’s torso, sucking bruises into the skin around his navel. As he moved up Dean’s chest, dropping kisses every few inches, he wrapped his hand around Dean’s dick, jacking him slowly, precum dripping from the slit and easing the way for Sam’s hand. Dean arched up, back coming completely off the couch, when Sam’s mouth wrapped around a nipple, the forceful sucking a contrast to the slow, steady pace of Sam’s hand
“Sammy,” he whimpered, breath coming in short pants. “Want you in me, need you.”
Sam sat back then, losing his grip on Dean, and looked at him with wide eyes. They hadn’t managed to get to the actual fucking part, before Dean ended things, both wanting to move slowly and feel their way into a relationship.
“Are you sure?” Sam asked, voice trembling.
Dean smiled. “Yeah, just…go slow? S’been a while since I bottomed…”
Sam scrambled off the couch and headed toward his bedroom, leaving a confused Dean behind. He reappeared seconds later with a bottle of lube and condoms, though, causing Dean to let out a relieved laugh. “I thought you were going to leave me all exposed,” he explained with a smirk at Sam’s questioning expression.
Sam nodded distractedly, climbed back on top of Dean. “Let me know if you want to stop, okay? This isn’t…We don’t have to…”
Dean pulled Sam’s face down to his for a possessive kiss. “Just do it,” he growled.
Sam gave a slight, jerky nod and moved down Dean’s legs, popping the cap of the lube as the condom fell to the floor. He poured a generous amount over his fingers, and let the bottle drop, as well. He trailed sticky, wet fingers down over Dean’s balls, rubbing his fingers against Dean’s hole before pushing one finger in slowly.
Dean hissed in a breath at the slight stretch, forgetting how weird it would feel at first. He nodded at Sam’s pause, encouraging him to go on. Sam did, moving the one finger in and out until Dean was moving with him, then adding another. He wrapped his other hand around Dean’s dick again, providing a distraction for the slight burn.
Dean expected it to hurt more, considering it had been years since he’d even considering bottoming. But he wanted Sam, wanted Sam so much that it would hurt worse not having that connection. He figured he was pretty relaxed, which helped, floating on Cloud Nine after Sam’s declaration. He hardly noticed the third finger slipping in, writhing at Sam’s ministrations.
“Okay?” Sam whispered.
Dean nodded. He gritted his teeth at the pressure of holding back, especially when Sam’s fingers began to brush against his prostrate, causing him to buck up. “God, Sammy, just do it,” he panted through tiny pleasure explosions. “Want you.”
Sam didn’t need any more than that, removing his fingers and getting himself ready. “You sure about this?” he asked as he positioned himself, sheathed cock pressing against Dean’s entrance. “We could do it another way…”
Dean shook his head. “Wanna see you,” he said as he locked eyes with Sam.
He wrapped his hands around Sam’s hips and pulled, forcing Sam inside him, deep as he could in one smooth move. Sam was bigger than anyone he’d had before, and his breath caught in his throat at the foreign feeling. He held Sam in place for a few minutes before releasing him and telling him to move.
Sam slowly slid out and back in; Dean could see the muscles in his thighs straining from holding back. After a few slow thrusts, though, the need became overwhelming, and Sam drove home, pounding into Dean, getting deeper with each thrust. Dean matched him, move for move, twisting his hips so that Sam was angled just right.
Sam’s hands were gripping Dean’s hips hard enough that there would surely be bruises when this was all said and done. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s shoulder and pulled him down into a messy kiss. That angle was even better, Dean’s dick riding the ridges of Sam’s stomach as Sam’s dick hit his prostate ruthlessly on every powerful thrust.
There was moaning filling the sex-charged air of Sam’s apartment as the sun started to filter in through Sam’s living room curtains, half-formed curses and bitten-off groans muffled into each other’s mouths.
Dean wanted it to last forever, the feeling of total completeness he felt at that moment, their bodies moving together in synch. But, too soon, he was coming, white ropes of sticky fluid shooting between them as stars exploded behind Dean’s eyes, Sam’s name murmured into a passionate kiss.
Sam’s thrust became erratic as Dean’s walls clenched around him. Dean was completely useless as his orgasm was milked out of him, slumping back against the couch, boneless, as Sam continued thrusting into him, separating their mouths only to suck a bruise into Dean’s shoulder.
A handful of thrusts later, Sam was coming too, biting down on Dean’s collarbone. Dean could feel Sam’s dick pulsing inside him as he spilled into the condom, moan vibrating Dean’s skin.
Sam collapsed, moving to the side and pulling out of Dean. He reached between them and pulled off the used condom, tied the end and tossed it in the general vicinity of their clothes.
“Sleep,” Dean murmured as Sam wrapped his arms and legs around him. The couch was a tight fit, but that was perfectly fine with Dean. He could cuddle, if necessary. And he figured it was pretty damn necessary, considering the weight of the morning’s events.
“When do we hafta be at the station?” Sam asked, nuzzling his face into Dean’s neck.
Dean raised his arm and squinted at his watch for a second before wrapping it around Sam again. “Four hours,” he mumbled, eyes closing of their own volition.
He could feel Sam nod, heard him say something else, but he was already drifting off into a sated sleep.
* * *
They were finally gone. Gone for good. Sam couldn’t believe it - he and Dean were finally alone, without the chance that Dean’s parents would walk in at any moment.
“So,” Dean started as Sam settled next to him on the couch and stole the remote control from his boyfriend. “I’m thinking you should just move in.”
Sam stopped flipping through channels, jerking up in shock and letting the remote clatter to the floor. He turned his head to stare at Dean, too surprised to even laugh at Dean’s attempts to get the remote off the floor without jarring his injured leg.
“What did you say?” he squeaked, the sound barely audible even to his own ears.
Dean sat up in a huff, remote gripped firmly in one hand. “I said,” he stressed, rolling his shoulders back, “that you should move in.”
Sam gulped. “That’s what I thought you said.”
Dean clucked his tongue, looking around the room absently. “Bad idea?” he asked as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.
Sam let out a nervous chuckle.
“No, not a bad idea,” he responded, trying to figure out exactly what he thought about that. It was actually pretty reasonable. After all, he’d agreed to help take care of Dean, which meant that he’d be practically living with him anyway, helping get around the house and shower and everything. And he loved being with Dean; he was already sure that he was going to miss him when Dean was healed and able to help himself again. So…why not?
“Okay,” he said, nodding his head. “Yeah.”
Dean shifted his gaze back to Sam. “Eh?” he replied, eyebrow cocked.
Sam laughed, a giddy sound that he’d never suspected could come from him. Until that moment, he’d never understood it when people said they were ‘high on life,’ but he got it now. Because he was high on Dean. “I said,” he teased, “that yeah, I’ll move in with you. I figure I’m gonna be around most of the time anyway, so…Wait. Did you mean temporarily or permanently?”
Dean punched him in the shoulder. “Permanently, bitch,” he smirked. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m going to be a pain in your ass, 24/7.”
Sam grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Pain in my ass, huh? Literally or figuratively?”
Dean matched his grin, tongue wetting his lips obscenely. “Whatever you want, Sammy.”
Sam nodded, pretending to think it over for a moment. Then he just shrugged and grabbed the remote control again, settling on an episode of Ghost Hunters, and propped his feet on Dean’s cast. “I’ll show you what I want. Later.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Dean narrow his eyes in what he supposed was supposed to be a threatening manner. He laughed. “I’ll carry you over the threshold?” he offered.
Dean snorted. “Like you’ve got any other choice,” he mumbled, settling in to watch the show, fingers massaging Sam’s ankle.
Sam smiled at him fondly. After all the issues they’d faced, here they were, getting a piece of their happily ever after. He’d never thought that it would be possible for a guy like him, coming from the outskirts of society. But, then again, Dean was kind of an outcast too. They might seem different to ‘normal’ people, but who cared?
Normal was boring anyhow.
* * *
The first thing Dean noticed when he woke up wasn’t the heavy arm draped across his chest, or even the soft hair that was tickling his nose. No, the first thing Dean noticed was the feeling complete and utter contentment, something he’d been sure he would never have again. Not after what had happened with Gordon and Jake. Not after the stunt he’d pulled.
“Stop thinking.”
Dean chuckled softly, looking down to find Sam’s bleary eyes blinking at him. “I wasn’t thinking, dude,” he responded, resisting the urge to kiss Sam senseless.
Sam snorted and pushed himself up to a sitting position. “You were. You were thinking about how you’re surprised that you have someone as stunning as me lying in your bed,” he said, smirking down at Dean. Then he looked down and amended, “Well, on my couch, rather.”
Dean couldn’t help but smile. That wasn’t quite what he was thinking, but he was fully aware that Sam knew that. “Nah,” he chided, easily falling back into the banter he’d missed for over a month. “I was actually thinking about how to let you down easy and slip out without you noticing.”
Sam laughed at that, one of those head-thrown-back, booming laughs that Dean always found so endearing. It was nice to hear it again.
Still chuckling quietly, Sam climbed off the couch and padded away naked. Dean figured that “aha!” he heard a few moments later was the sound of Sam finding his boxers somewhere in the short distance between the living room and the kitchen.
Without the distraction of Sam, he let his thoughts drift back to earlier that morning - and everything that he’d revealed. He’d thought for sure that his speech was going to be met with contempt, maybe even hatred. After all, he was the one who gave up when the going got tough.
“You’re thinking again,” Sam said, standing over him fully dressed and holding out Dean’s clothes. “Up. We gotta get to the station.”
Dean complied, dressing and wrapping his hand in Sam’s as they walked to the station. It was a nice morning, Spring just around the corner, cool breeze ruffling their hair as they strode along, bantering. It was great, just being them again.
Three hours later, as they were deeply involved in robbing Andy and Anson of their money in a poker game, the alarms started sounding. They all leaped into action, Dean making fun of Sam in his gear just like he always had - though he and everyone else knew that he was just trying to distract himself from how hot he looked in the get-up.
As they all climbed onto the gleaming red truck, ready to head for an apartment building on fire, Dean pulled Sam close, gear making the embrace a little less intimate. “I love you,” he whispered in his ear, giving him a quick peck on the lips.
Sam’s smile was blinding as he walked away, backwards, toward the trunk. “You too!” he called back with a wink. “Now let’s go save some people!”
Dean let out a loud whoop and hopped on the back of the truck, barely staying on as it pulled away. Today was going to be a good day.
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A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I had one hell of a time writing this and, if you've made it through to the end, I really hope you enjoyed it! :)
Let me know what you think?
_